The Music of the Night
by Defying Popularity
Summary: Colette travels to Paris to meet the Phantom of the Opera & meets a mysterious patron in the process. The patron's actually Count Dracula & he seeks Colette to be his bride. To stop him, Erik & Van Helsing team up to save Colette from the Count's grasp.
1. Chapter 1

She sat in her seat as Paris began to become more and more visible. Her long blonde hair was up in a neat bun as she made sure that she looked all right, knowing that she would be meeting the owners of the Opera Populaire at the train station the very second she arrived. She wore a long violet gown, the bodice tied tightly to minimize her already small waist. Although, it was entirely too tight for such a long train ride. Putting her mirror away, she continued to look out the window as Paris grew more and more near, the train's brakes activating with a loud squeal as it slowed to a halt in front of the train station. A stack of letters in white envelopes and a red skull seal on the back rested neatly in her lap, almost completely hidden by her hand that rested on top of them.

She had begun to receive these mysterious letters the year that her parents died. One arrived every week, and this mysterious 'Opera Ghost,' as they had been signed, had requested that she come to Paris once she had reached the age of seventeen to claim the family fortune that awaited her. Now, here she was on a train that had come to a complete stop, with the lights of Paris glowing in the night sky, a smile spread across her face. Gracefully, she stood, smoothing out the skirt of her gown and stepping out into the busy aisle, searching for her escorts that awaited her. A train attendant placed her luggage in her awaiting hands and directed her to the carriage that was waiting for her on the corner of the street. In front of the carriage stood the owners of the Opera Populaire, Monsieur Richard Firmin, and Monsieur Giles Andre. Quickly, she placed the letters into one of her bags and approached them timidly. Monsieur Firmin, she recognized as the taller one, looked up, seeing her as she approached them.

"Mademoiselle Harker," he greeted, walking up to meet her. He removed his gray top had from his graying head and bowed in front of her after she stopped, smiling kindly at him.

"Yes. Call me Colette, if you please, Monsieur Firmin," she replied to the greeting as she curtseyed politely after setting her luggage on the sidewalk. She watched him rise and motion for the coachman to come over and get her luggage and he was followed by Monsieur Andre. Once the coachman walked away with Colette's bags, both of the owners, first Monsieur Firmin, and then Monsieur Andre, politely lifted and kissed Colette's delicate hand, then led her to the carriage, helping her inside before they got in.

"I hope the train ride was suitable for you from your ship from London," Monsieur Andre spoke as he saw her looking out of the carriage's window, admiring Paris's sights.

"It was tolerable, Monsieur Andre," she said in reply, pulling her eyes away from Paris's beautiful lights, looking at the owners with a kind smile. Although on the inside, her body was screaming to be released from the incredibly tight bodice from her gown. "I'm just happy to be here. I've been looking forward to this for years. I cannot wait to begin working for you. I'm really looking forward to it."

"Yes, well, when you wrote us and asked us about an opening as a painter, we didn't have anything open," Monsieur Firmin said, smiling kindly at her. Colette looked at his hands, noticing that they were glistening with sweat as he spoke. It was almost as if he was afraid of something that she had said. "We received a very high recommendation from someone at the Opera House, so of course we had to hire you."

"Well, I thank you for this opportunity, Monsieur. I just hope I can be as much help to you as I possibly can."

Soon, the clomping hooves of the horses that were pulling the carriage was starting to slow and soon came to a stop as the driver gave the command for them to stop. The weight on the back of the carriage was lifted as the coachman appeared and opened the door, offering his hand to Colette to help her out. She took it and stepped out and was soon followed by Andre and Firmin. She looked at the beautiful site of the Opera Populaire, the magnificent columns and the beautiful statues that graced the front stairs to the entrances. She was completely mesmerized with it, her eyes traveling up to the roof. She caught a glimpse of a shadowy figure that looked like it was looking down at her, but it quickly disappeared. Andre and Firmin stood beside her, smiling as she took in the sight of the beautiful gold palace that awaited her and the mysteries and thrills that waited inside.

"Shall we go inside," Andre asked her as he offered his arm to her as the coachman stood behind Firmin, waiting to walk ahead to follow the three while holding Colette's luggage.

"Yes," she said with a kind smile, taking Andre's arm and letting him walk her inside the opera house. As they entered the main hall, two attendants took Andre and Firmin's coats and hats. Again, just like the outside of the Opera Populaire, the walls and columns were painted in gold and the floor was marble. There were many doors and a grand staircase, as well as statues that graced the entire theatre and its patrons as they came in to see the operas. The owners showed Colette to the quarters where the ballerinas and some actresses lived and Andre opened the door to Colette's private quarters. She stepped inside, looking around. The bed was against the wall with midnight blue bed sheets, a window above it, the dark wooden walls thick, however bare. She had a dresser with a mirror and basin and there was a rack where she could hang her clothes. There was another mirror; it was tall and resting against the wall with a dark gold colored frame. She walked up to it, examining the edges. It looked like it had been slipped open from the side a few times. She placed her hand on the rough edges, looking at her reflection.

"How do you like it," Firmin asked, watching her as she examined the mirror. Colette pulled herself away from the mirror, smiling at Andre and Firmin.

"The walls are bare, but I can fix that. I love it otherwise," she replied, turning in a circle as she looked around the room once more. "It's perfect."

"Good," he smiled and the attendant brought her bags in, setting them on her bed. "If you don't mind, we would like you to start painting sets immediately. We're opening a new opera in two weeks and this is what he need." He handed her a list and she took it in her hand, reading over it. It listed a night sky and a city in the daylight and a battle scene. All of these scenes for the opera called 'Hannibal' by Chalumeau. "Do you think you can at least do the night sky tonight," Andre asked her with imploring eyes, as if he was begging her.

"Of course," she smiled, folding the list and setting it on her dresser, taking her hair out of her bun. "If you'll allow me to change, I'll get to work right away."

"Of course, Colette," Firmin said as he and Andre smiled, leaving her alone to her room. Colette looked around her now empty room, trying to think of ways to make it different from all of the others. She changed as she thought about the color of the wood. It was dark, not as the night sky, but it was so dark that no light color would look good against it. She decided to give it some more thought later, leaving her room and shutting the door behind her. She walked down the corridor, passing the ballet mistress's room on her way up to the stage. She placed her hand on the banister, holding her skirt as she walked up the stairs. She immediately found herself to be backstage, staring up at the large canvas that awaited her. She let out a breath and looked at the colors that sat on the floor beside it, kneeling down and taking the palate in her hand. She began mixing the colors onto the palate with her brushes and she began painting the canvas, the dark blue soaking into the fabric and soon, the fabric was coated in the blues and blacks of the night, grey clouds lightly gracing the scene near the top and little stars remaining. The stars, constellations that graced the night, the designs that she so loved and dreamt of in her dreams as she laid in the grass with her lover, gazing up at them and getting lost in her lover's eyes. She placed the palate on the floor, getting up and stretching, hearing a clock chime in the distance, as well as creaks from the rafters above her. She looked up, but saw nothing. It was well into the late hours of the night, three in the morning to be exact. She rubbed her eyes, and then walked away from the canvas, making her way back to her room. All was quiet in the Opera Populaire, which all of the dancers, stage hands and builders in bed for the night and here, the newest addition to the staff, an artist, was just now going down for the night. She quickly and quietly opened the door to her room, closing it after she walked in. The lamp on her wall as lit and burning dimly until she turned the knob, the room becoming brighter. And there, on her dresser, resting against the basin was another white envelope addressed to her, just like the dozens before she came to Paris. Oddly excited, she walked over and picked it up, sitting on her bed and turning it over, breaking the skull seal and taking the letter out, unfolding it and reading it silently. It read:

"_Dearest Colette,_

_You have made it to Paris safely and now, you are under the employ of the morons that run my opera house. I am happy that they gave you a private room and I saw that you noticed the rough edges around the mirror. I'll let you in on a little secret. The mirror is a secret passage way leading down to the catacombs of the opera house and you are NEVER to use it. Now, you must get some sleep because I know that when you get this it will be very late. I have already sent the morons a note to let you sleep for as long as you want. Their newest acquirement must have her energy so the sets are beautiful._

_Goodnight, my dear Colette._

_Your faithful severant,_

_O.G."_

She smiled softly, folding up the letter, though her mind was racing with questions. Where was he and how did he know where her room was? Better yet, how did she even know if he was a man at all? And yet, she sighed happily as if she had received a letter from her parents or, better yet, the lover that she dreamed of at night. She slipped out of her dress and corset, brushing through her long hair and washed her face, going over to the bed and pulling her sheets back, getting in and covering herself. She held the letter to her chest, smiling still, then closed her eyes and falling asleep, the dream of her, the stars and her lover, coming back to her sweeter than ever before.


	2. Chapter 2

The night passed with ease, but the deep sleep that she was in was waning away as she listened to the hustle and bustle of all of the people running past her room. Slowly, she opened her eyes and rubbed them, yawning as she looked at the clock on the wall and seeing that the time was half past noon; nine and a half hours of sleep, all thanks to the mysterious O.G. She rose from her bed, setting her feet on the cold wooden floor as she padded her way over to the dresser and poured some water into her basin, washing her face and neck. Drying off, she searched for possible dresses she could wear to her second day of work. As she pulled on a red dress, a girl entered, breathing hard, shutting and locking the door. She had flame red hair and freckles and she was about five feet tall, wearing a dancer's outfit and shoes. Colette gasped, startled by the girl who had entered her room. When her intruder realized that she wasn't in an empty room, she turned to Colette, embarrassed.

"I'm sorry," she said, her voice indicating a heavy French accent as she spoke. "I thought this room was vacant. I'm hiding from someone."

Just as Colette was about to speak, there was a pounding knock at the door and a gruff voice behind it. "You can't hide from me, Lucy! I saw you go in there!"

Lucy turned back to Colette, her eyes pleading for help as the pounding on the door continued. Colette pointed to the dresser, instructing Lucy to hide beside it as she went to the door, unlocking it and opening it with caution. In front of her stood a grungy, dark and sinister looking stage hand, his brown hair greasy and his breath reeking of alcohol.

"May I help you?" Colette asked, her voice stern as she held her dress up by her chest, covering herself as the man looked her up and down lustfully.

"I'm looking for Lucy. I saw her come in here."

"I'm sorry, but I'm the only one in this room and I do not know any Lucy. Now, I suggest you leave before I call for the managers and tell them that you woke me."

The man's lip curled and he turned on his heel, stalking off down the hallway. Colette merely smirked, shutting the door and locking it again, turning around to see that Lucy was now standing, her eyes wide in admiration, shocked that the girl was standing up for her.

"Thank you for that. You could've handed me over to him, but you didn't. For that, I owe you. I'm Lucy. Lucy Harris."

"You're welcome, Lucy," she replied, going over to the mirror. "Would you mind tying the back of this?"

"I'd love to," she said, coming up behind Colette. Grabbing the strings, she laced up the bodice of the dress. "I didn't get your name."

"Colette. Colette Harker. I just moved here from London."

"Oh! You must be the new artist that the managers have been talking about. Everyone's fawning over the canvas you did of the night sky for 'Hannibal.' I'm quite jealous. I wish I could paint like you."

"It's a lot of work, but it's worth it to see your work being praised," she said, feeling better once Lucy had finshed lacing up the back of the dress. Skillfully, she began to fix her hair as she continued. "I _am _modest, though. I hate it when people go from praising to brown-nosing. I just want everyone to know the person behind the paintings, you know?"

"I know what you mean. I'm a chorus girl, but I won't get noticed. Not the way that Christine did."

"Christine?" she questioned as she cast her a look over her shoulder. "Who's Christine?"

"You've never heard of Christine Daae?"

"No, I haven't, though her last name sounds familiar."

"You're probably thinking of her father, Gustav Daae."

"The violinist?"

"Yes, that's right. She was brought here after he died. She went from being a chorus girl to the lead today!"

"How can that be?"

"Well, people say that someone has been training her," she said, sitting on the bed as she watched Colette finish her hair. "Some people say that it was Piangi, the lead tenor doing it because he wanted someone better than Carlotta, the prima donna, beside him. Others are saying that she taught herself. But Christine's explanation is the strangest of them all."

"And what is Christine's explanation?"

"Christine told Meg Giry, the ballet mistress's daughter, last night that she's being trained by an Angel of Music, someone who comes to her through mirrors and takes her below to the catacombs of the Opera House."

Colette froze. Mirror? Catacombs? She had heard those words before…in the letter from her anonymous penpal. He told her not to touch the mirror because it was a passageway that led down to the catacombs. She wasn't allowed to go in it, although she didn't know why. Maybe it was because he was with Christine and _he _was the one training her. Of course, she couldn't be sure about that. After all, she didn't really know her alleged admirer; she only knew him through the letters that he had sent her. Maybe he was someone that she shouldn't be chasing after…

"Are you all right?" Lucy asked as the color drained from Colette's face. "You look like you just saw a ghost."

"Never better. I was…just thinking about Christine's explanation, that's all."

"Do you think that she's lying, or telling the truth?"

"Well, to be honest, Lucy, I really don't know. I haven't known Christine long enough to know whether she would be lying about something like this so until we see this special trainer of hers, I think we should keep it quiet, even though I'm sure that everyone is talking about it."

"Yes, it's been the gossip around here lately," she said, heading towards the door. Opening it, she turned to her, smiling. "I want to thank you again for hiding me from that gruesome stage hand. Don't let him bother you. He's a drunkard and he'll try anything. Be careful."

"Thank you for the warning, Lucy," she said, offering her a smile, and then watched as she left the room.

Colette soon followed suit and went to the stage, climbing the stairs as she held her dress while walking to the catwalk that was hanging above the stage, her hands placed firmly on the ropes for balance. She wasn't a fan of heights and the catwalk didn't feel very sturdy at all, but she wanted to make sure that the canvas that she had painted last night wouldn't be damaged as they tied ropes around it. She watched as the stagehands down below began to pull the ropes and the canvas began to rise, but she noticed that the right side was lopsided, so she stopped, leaning over the side and looking down at the stage hand on the right side.

"Excuse me," she said, her voice echoing throughout the empty theater as the stage hands looked up at her. "The right side of the canvas is tilted. I think you should lower it and make sure that you're pulling the ropes at an even pace slowly so the canvas will rise evenly."

"Thank you for that piece of advice," said a gruff voice coming from the left side of the catwalk.

She turned her head and she saw the sinister stage hand that was chasing after Lucy. She turned her body to him, her hands clutching the ropes of the catwalk as she kept her eyes on him, telling herself not to look down.

"I think we can handle the job ourselves, Madame _Artiste_," he said to her with his hands on the ropes, though he stayed on the solid level.

He shook the ropes and the catwalk began to sway and Colette gasped, going down onto her knees, clutching the ropes. The stagehand smirked, letting out a low and demonic chuckle, holding the ropes tightly.

"P-please don't do that," she said, her voice full of fear as she looked down at the stage below, swallowing hard as a sweat broke out on her forehead.

"What? This?" he asked, taking the ropes and shaking them harder.

Colette leaned over, flipping over the catwalk and plummeting towards the stage. She screamed, reaching for the catwalk's rope that seemed so far now, still descending at a rapid pace. As the stage hands ran over to try and catch to her, an object from the shadows, a figure of a man dressed in black swinging from a free rope, caught her and held her tight as they landed on the opposite side of the stage. Colette closed her eyes and fainted out of fear. The dark figure cradled her and set her down on the floor, resting her head gently against the wall. From the stage and out through the theater, there were shouts of Colette's name and yelling at the stage hand responsible for scaring her when she was only trying to help. The figure looked down at Colette, tucking a loose strand of hair behind her ear, but as he did so, her eyes fluttered opened as she began to stir. He stood and walked away, disappearing once again into the shadows before she had a chance to see his face. Andre and Firmin came down the hallway, finding Colette and saying her name worriedly, hoping that she would wake up. Her eyes opened slowly and she blinked twice, seeing them hovering over her.

"Colette, are you all right?" Firmin asked, holding her ice cold hands, almost afraid to help her up.

"W…what happened?"

"Buquet shook the ropes of the catwalk and you fell. Someone swung on a rope from the shadows and saved you, though, and brought you here."

"Well, where is he? I would like to thank him."

"I don't know, but don't worry. We'll find him. For now, I think it would be best that you go to your room and rest up for the rest of the night. Don't worry about the other canvases. All that needs to be done is to paint them and that shouldn't be a problem for the stage hands."

She gave them a soft nod and one of the stage hands who was working on the night sky canvas she painted helped her up, leading her back to her room. When she was out of earshot, Firmin turned to Andre and both men had a look of worry on their faces.

"She doesn't know the story," Andre said, leaning up against the wall.

"No, she doesn't and I think he'll want to keep it that way."

"But he saved her life! And she wants to thank him. How is he going to pull that off? He's a phantom, for goodness sake."

"I know _what _he is, but I guarantee you that there will be a note waiting on our desk for us, telling us that he doesn't want to be thanked for saving her."

"'O.G.' is a man of many moods and emotions, Firmin. Let's just see what happens, all right?"

"Yes, that was your idea that last time. Remember when we first received a letter from her? 'Let's just see what happens?' The next thing we know is that there's a note on our desk from the Opera Ghost telling us to hire her or he would string us from the highest rafters!"

He gulped, holding his neck. "All right, then. What do you suggest we do?"

Firmin thought for a moment, rubbing the back of his neck as he began to pace. He stopped after a moment, looking back at Andre. "We'll write _him _a note."

"A note? Wouldn't that be stooping down to his level?"

"Maybe in some way, but not really. We'll write him and tell him that Colette wants to thank him for saving her life, and that he's welcome to join us at the gala."

"What? Are we going to become business associates with him now?"

"I never said that. And besides, we have this new patron besides the Vicomte de Changey coming tonight."

"Oh, yes, Count Vladimir de Maurier. Did we ever get any background information on him?"

"Not that I'm aware of. The only thing that I know is he arrived in Paris last night and he's looking forward to seeing our opera tomorrow evening. That's all that I know."

"I wonder if he'll want to meet Colette."

"It's possible. He _did _come to Paris looking for a wife."


	3. Chapter 3

As the overture for the opera began, Lucy was excused from the performance that night to help Colette get better, who was lying on her bed in her room with a cold compress over her eyes. Lucy was sitting in a chair by the vanity, reading one of Colette's many books that she brought with her, wondering as her eyes skimmed across the pages when Colette was going to wake up. However, Colette wasn't really asleep. Her eyes were closed beneath the compress, but she was lying still and wide awake, listening to the music as it filled the quiet halls of the theatre. She slowly sat up, removing the compress and slowly opening her eyes, turning her head and seeing Lucy.

"Hello, Lucy," she said softly, rubbing her eyes. Lucy looked up from the book, smiling sweetly and closing it, setting it on the vanity.

"Hello, Colette. How do you feel?"

"I'm feeling much better, thank you. Why aren't you onstage with everyone else?"

"The managers asked me to look after you until you woke up. They still want you to come to the gala though, if you're well enough."

"I am well enough, I hope," she said, swinging her legs around and setting her feet gently on the floor. Her feet were bare and she was in her corset and slip. Lucy must have undressed her when she actually was asleep.

"I heard you fell from the catwalk this afternoon," Lucy said as she went to Colette's closet to pick out a dress for her to wear to the gala.

"Weren't you around at all," Colette asked her as she rose from her bed, walked across the room and sat at her vanity and began to brush out her long blond hair, watching her as she rummaged through the array of dresses.

"The dancers were being fitted for costumes at the time, but when we heard you scream, we ran to see what was going on, but there was a lot of talk of the Phantom saving your life."

She froze, dropping her brush and it clattered to the floor. The Phantom of the Opera had saved her life? She began to blush a deep shade of red, mainly out of embarrassment and yet, a wild desire began to burn inside of her. She picked up her brush and began brushing her hair again. "Yes, it wasn't very pleasant. The fall, I mean."

"I should say not. May I ask…what happened," she fished timidly as she found a dress that she really liked.

Colette watched her as she heard the timidity in Lucy's voice as she asked her what happened. It was as if she was afraid of the answer. She turned her body to look at the dresses that Lucy had picked out, since she was holding them up. In her left hand, she held a navy blue long sleeved gown, lined with a light blue trim of lace on the skirt and the skirt split into a sort of triangle shape, revealing a different shade of blue; a bit lighter than the navy, but it was still a bit dark. She smiled softly at the dress. It used to be her mother's, and therefore, it was a bit more conservative. However, in her right hand, Lucy held a gown made of red silk and sleeves were made to go around the tops of her arms, which left her shoulders, neck and arms bare. The hem of the skirt was maroon lace and the corseted back accented her curves more when tied just right. It was perfect for the gala. She pointed to the red dress and Lucy laid it gently onto her bed, and then asked, "Well?"

It was at that point that Colette had forgotten to respond to Lucy's question. She cleared her throat as Lucy came over to take over for her hair, and slowly began the story.

"I was walking around the theatre, familiarizing myself with it so I wouldn't get lost. I made my way to the stage and to get a better view of what the stage hands were doing, I went up the stairs and walked across the catwalk. I don't know why I chose to walk across the catwalk because I'm a little afraid of heights, but I guess I did just so I could get a better view. I saw that the stage hands were raising the canvas that I had finished last night and it was crooked. I gave them some advice on how to fix it without ruining the canvas and the man who was chasing after you was standing on the other side. He shook the ropes and I fell. I guess I fainted while I was mid fall because when I came to, Andre and Firmin were standing before me and I was resting against the wall."

Lucy listened intently as she fixed Colette's hair, putting it in a unique but nice bun, two small braids lacing over it and light soft strands of hair on either side of her face. "I'm sorry that Buquet did that to you."

"Buquet," Colette repeated as she admired Lucy's work on her hair. "Is that his name?"

"Yes. Joseph Buquet. He's been here longer than any of the other stage hands, but he's the most crude of them all. He harasses the dancers and he's a Peeping Tom. I guess he only harassed you because you're new and you're getting paid more than he is."

Colette shrugged, and then asked, "Who said the Phantom had saved my life?"

"It was one of the stage hands who worked on the canvas. After everything had settled down and everyone was back to work, he told me that as they ran over to catch you, the Phantom swung from a rope and caught you and he landed on the other side with you in his arms."

"But why would he save me?"

"Maybe he likes you. What do I know? Maybe he'll appear to you like he did to Christine."

"Christine has seen him? He's a real person?"

"She says that he is, but no one else knows. Most of us see his shadow or hear his cape swooshing about."

Colette shrugged again, getting up from her vanity and walking over to her bed, pulling on the dress with Lucy's help. She held onto the bed post as Lucy tied the back. "Will I see you at the gala later," she asked as she gave a hard tug and Colette let out a loud gasp, holding her stomach.

"Yes, I hope so, if Andre and Firmin let me escape from their grips for a while," she replied with a chuckle and Lucy chuckled also, tying the back of Colette's gown. Colette straightened up, going to look in the mirror, turning around in a circle.

"You look beautiful," Lucy beamed, heading towards the door. "I'm going to go watch the rest of the opera. Want to join me?"

"I'll be there in a few minutes," she replied, admiring how the gown looked on her as she turned around in a circle again. Lucy quietly shut the door behind her as she left and Colette went to her vanity, getting her make up out. She wanted to put on some final touches so she looked absolutely perfect, though she already looked beautiful. As she raised her brush to her face after running it lightly over a light pink for her eyes, her candles went out. She sat in the darkness; the only light in her room was the moonlight shining in her window. She stood up, going over to relight the candles.

"Don't relight them," a voice said in the darkness. Colette froze completely in place in front of her mirror, dropping her matches on the floor. The voice was dark, hard, and yet, it was also gentle and soft.

"Who's there," she asked in a quiet voice, her hands trembling as she looked around the room. The room was empty. So where was the voice coming from?

"I am he," the voice replied.

"He? The one who saved my life this afternoon?"

"And the one who has been writing to you for these past few months."

Her heart leapt as she took in his words, pulling her chair from her vanity and sitting beside her mirror. It seemed like that was where the voice was coming from. It was loudest by the mirror than it was by her door. "Why can't I see you?"

"I am of flesh and blood and I will appear to you fully in time."

"So you are real?"

"Every inch."

She let out a breath of air, feeling slightly overwhelmed and yet, she was happy. She had never felt like this before. Her heart was racing a mile a minute. She had been waiting for this day for such a long time. The only thing she wished was different was that she wished that she could see him fully. Suddenly, she had realized that she had forgotten to speak. "I…I've kept every letter you've written."

"I know. I saw them while you were unpacking."

She blinked as the feelings of happiness slipping away and being replaced with a slight feeling of invasion and excitement. Excitement ran through her veins because he had been watching her and a strange tingle went down her spine to her thighs. "You watched me unpack? Have you watched me undress as well?"

"Never," he said, the tone of his voice filled with a slight annoyance with a mixture of disgust. "I am a gentleman, not a pig like Buquet."

"Thank you. I would feel violated if had watched me dress. My apologies if I annoyed you in any way."

"Would you feel violated if I asked you a question?"

"It depends on what that question is."

The Opera Ghost ignored this comment from her. "We don't have much time. It's almost intermission and the managers will be looking for you. I was just wondering…where did you learn to paint?"

She blinked at the question, rubbing the back of her neck softly as she prepared to answer him. All she could really do is smile as she thought about it. The memories of her and her father painting together on the shores of the English Channel danced through her mind as she folded her hands in her lap. "My father taught me. He was an amazing painter and my mother was a writer. A great writer of poetry and prose." She stopped, thinking about her parents. It had only been a few months since her parents passing and it was something that she wasn't ready to talk about yet.

"You have a great talent for painting. Your canvases are beautiful."

She blushed, touching her cheek as if he had brushed his fingers against her soft skin. Then, she heard heavy footfalls of people coming down the hall and the voices of the managers and dancers mixed in. "They're coming," she said, standing up from her chair and setting it back beside her vanity. "When will I see you again?"

There was no reply. Instead, the candles relit themselves and the room was well lit once again. "O.G.," she whispered, wondering where he had gone. Instead of a reply from that sweet, calm and gentle voice, there was a knock on the door.

"Mademoiselle Harker? Are you almost ready?"

The kind voice behind the door belonged to Monsieur Firmin. She would recognize that voice anyway. She smiled and finished tying the front of her luscious gown and she opened her door smiling at the managers. "I just finished, Monsieur Firmin. How do I look? I don't look too eager, do I?"

The managers both shook their heads at a rapid pace. Both of them, though they didn't have daughters of their own, thought that Colette looked exquisitely beautiful for the young age of seventeen. They looked at each other, both of them grinning from ear to ear. They would introduce her to the Count and they would watch her like a hawk with him until the Count made his decision about her. Colette stepped out of her room and shut her door, walking between the managers as they led her back to the balcony they were sitting in. As they walked, the corridors were crowded with so many people that were stretching their legs so the managers and Colette had to push their way through the crowd. They finally arrived at balcony and Andre opened the door for her and she stepped inside. As she took her seat, the man behind her tapped her on the shoulder and smiled. He was dressed nicely and had his blond hair tied back in a ribbon, the suit black and the shirt was collared.

"You must be the Artiste I have heard so much about," he said and offered his hand to her, which she took in a slow and nervous manner.

"Ah, I see you've already met," Firmin said, taking his seat again. "Colette, I would like to introduce you to Vicomte Raoul de Chagny, Christine Daae's fiancée. Raoul, this is Colette Harker, the Artiste we have hired for this season."

Raoul smiled and Colette smiled back as he placed a gentle kiss on the back of her hand, and then released it from his soft hold. "We were wondering what was keeping you."

"Forgive me for being tardy. I had a bit of a brush of death earlier today and I wanted to rest up to make sure that I was well enough to come tonight."

"Yes, Giles and Richard were just telling me that before they went to fetch you. I'm sorry that happened to you. The stage hands are so rough with the new young ladies here."

"Well, the others have been very kind to me. It was just that one. He was chasing Lucy, one of the dancers, today and she hid in my room. He came to my door and asked for her, but I told him that there was no one in the room other than myself. I think that's why he chose to corner me."

"Well, don't worry, Colette," Firmin whispered as the orchestra began to play for the second act of the opera. "We'll deal with him accordingly."

She nodded with a soft smile and turned her attention to the stage. The music swelled and the dancers took the stage, dancing in a beautiful style. Soon they parted and a canvas was lowered. Not just any canvas, however. It was her night sky. She looked down at the patrons and they all gasped and smiles appeared on their faces and whispers about its beauty. Behind the dancers appeared the lead soprano, dressed in an amazing white gown with her hair pulled back with jeweled flowers. Immediately, Colette knew that it was Christine Daae. She watched and she felt so overwhelmed with the feeling of all of the patrons talking in whispers about her canvas that it brought tears to her eyes. She felt something being put in her hand and she looked down, seeing a handkerchief. She looked over and Firmin smiled, patting her hand.

"I know that they're tears of joy," he whispered with a kind smile. "You should be proud. Tonight, the stars aren't shining for Mademoiselle Daae; they're shining for you."

* * *

The opera ended after the fourth act and the patrons erupted in applause for the curtain call. They all gathered backstage to meet the cast and to have champagne and to mingle. Sometimes, if the single gentlemen were lucky, the dancers were willing to lead them to a dark corridor somewhere in the opera house. Raoul had gone off to meet with Christine to take her out to dinner, then to their lovely home. Andre and Firmin, however, had other plans. They took Colette and introduced her to the most powerful people in Paris and they paraded her around like a peacock. Colette was a modest person and she wasn't one to gloat about her work. Not only that, but when it came to meeting people that she would never see again, it made her nervous and she only spoke when she was spoken to, which was soon taken over by Andre and Firmin as the patrons asked questions. It took about an hour, but Colette finally managed to pull herself away from them for a breath of hair, but was soon found by Lucy, who was smiling widely and drunk from champagne.

"Oh, Colette," she said, her words slurred together as she held onto the wall for support. "Your paintings were so beautiful! Everyone loves you!"

"Thank you, Lucy," she replied meekly, then asked in a soft voice, "Are you drunk?"

"Shh," she said, her finger pressed against her lips while she giggled giddily. "I may be, but only a little."

"Lucy, I think you need to go to bed," Colette said, then a stage hand came over, picking Lucy up and carrying her to the dancer's quarters and Lucy waved goodbye, laughing loudly. She shook her head, letting out a soft laugh as she leaned up against the wall, closing her eyes.

"Your friend can't hide her secrets very well," a voice said beside her.

Colette slowly opened her eyes and she straightened up, turning to see who was speaking to her. It was a man, dressed in a black suit and white shirt and bow tie. He was taller than her by at least six inches and he was fit. His long black hair was pulled back with a black ribbon and he was wearing a top hat. Along with the suit, he wore white gloves on his hands and a cape, black with red satin on the inside that just glowed. Her eyes traveled to his face. He was clean-shaven and his eyes were a mixture of brown and a light blue, which she recognized as hazel. They were warm and she felt herself drowning in his stare. He offered her a soft smile and handed her a glass of champagne, which she took without objecting, sipping at it.

"I suppose you're right," she replied in a soft voice, looking up at the kind stranger before sipping at the champagne again.

"What's a beautiful young lady like you doing over here by yourself," he asked, watching her as his eyes raked over her body, his voice laden with a heavy, foreign accent that she didn't recognize.

"Sometimes, a beautiful girl needs to get away from all of the people lavishing her with compliments that she has heard over and over again."

He smiled softly, looking at her. "Well, if you were with me, I would never stop complimenting you," he whispered, his face close to hers. Colette nearly fell into his arms, breathing in his scent. Suddenly, she noticed that he had pulled away, as if he sensed someone coming. Sure enough, Andre and Firmin had arrived beside them, both of them grinning as they saw who Colette was speaking with.

"Ah, I see that you two have already met," Andre said cheerfully, sipping at his own champagne.

"Well, we haven't been formally introduced," the man said as he looked at the managers, and then turned his attention back to Colette.

"Ah, well! Count, this is Colette Harker, the wonderful Artiste that did such a beautiful job on the canvases that you saw this evening. Colette, this is Count Vladimir de Maurier of Transylvania."

Colette's mouth dropped open slightly, completely speechless. Transylvania was a place that she had only read about in her books that she brought with her. She thought that place was completely fictional. She finally found her voice back and she smiled, curtseying politely. "It's a pleasure to meet you, Count de Maurier."

The Count smiled and took her hand, placing a gentle kiss on the back of it, giving her the same warm stare that he had before. His lips were oddly cold, but she thought it was because of the champagne. He didn't drop her hand, but stared into her eyes. "Likewise, Madame Harker."

"Mademoiselle," she corrected him politely, her cheeks turning pink with a soft blush.

"I hope to see you again soon, but sadly, it's time for me to retire to my home. Goodnight, Mademoiselle Harker."

"We'll walk with you," Firmin said as the Count slowly let go of Colette's hand, then walked out with the managers. Colette soon found herself up against the wall again, her heart beating rapidly. She set her champagne glass down and placed her hand over her heart, feeling her heartbeat. It was quiet for a few moments, then Lucy came over, having regained a bit of control since she was dragged away by the stage hand. She had saw the Count was with her and she didn't want to disturb them, but as soon as he was gone, she came over and asked, "Who was that?"

Colette couldn't find her words again, her mind on her heart, wondering why she was feeling like this. She straightened up again, turned to Lucy and smiled. "A man who wanted me more than any one else here," she said blissfully and softly, and then started walking to her room. As she walked, she felt as if she was gliding. She thought that maybe it was the alcohol, but that couldn't have been it. No, it was that Count. Somehow, the Count had some kind of hold on her in that few minutes of meeting and talking. She entered her room and shut the door, going to her bed. She looked over as she sat down, finding a single white rose with a white envelope with the red skull seal. O.G. had written to her again. She grabbed the envelope and smiled, opening it and taking the note out, unfolding it and reading it.

"_My dearest Colette:_

_I apologize that our time was cut short this evening. I went to the performance and though I was impressed with how Miss Daae performed, I was even more impressed and entranced by the beauty and exquisiteness of your canvases. As I told you this evening, you have a great talent and though you are modest, you don't let the modesty appear on the canvases and for that, I admire you. I leave with you a single white rose. The white rose represents_ _purity, innocence and secrecy__. We will speak again soon. I promise you._

_Your faithful servant and friend,_

_O.G."_

She sighed happily and folded the letter, placing it back into the envelope, and blew out the candle. She lay down on the bed; still completely dressed, not having the energy to undress, not even to take off her shoes. She slipped into a heavy sleep, completely worn out from the events of the day.

Behind the mirror, he watched her, smiling some as she watched her chest moved in slow, deep breaths. He slowly slid the mirror open and stepped inside, his cape flowing behind him and his mask reflecting some in the moonlight. Without making a sound, he walked over to her sleeping form slowly, bending down at her feet and slowly untied her shoes. He couldn't stand her being uncomfortable. Once the shoes were loosened, he slowly pulled them off of her feet, setting them on the floor quietly. She let out a soft moan and rolled onto her opposite side, her back towards him. He didn't move at first, afraid that he would wake her, but then reached over and loosened the ties little by little, pulling them loose gradually. She let out a content sigh and he immediately drew his hands back, thinking that he had woken her. She didn't move, but continued to breathe deeply in her sleep. He got up and quietly snuck out of her room, sliding the mirror shut. The followed the corridors to the lake, getting into his boat and paddling quickly to his home. Once he got to the other side, he removed his cloak and hung it up, stretching, then went over to his piano and began composing. He was working on a new piece, a present for Colette. It was a lullaby, something to give her happy dreams.

Meanwhile, a young seamstress had just finished up the last bottle of champagne and was stumbling back to her room. Everyone had either left or gone to bed and the Opera Populaire was embraced in darkness. She stopped at the center of the stage, seeing that someone was following her. She smiled, putting her hands on her hips as he made his way to her, his eyes penetrating her soul. His black cape swooshed about and she saw traces of red satin and she knew who he was immediately.

"Have you been following me this whole time, Count de Maurier," she asked, her words slightly slurred as he took her in his arms, looking down at her.

"Do you blame me, Mary," he whispered, his lips lightly touching her neck and she let out a lustful sigh, her arms wrapping around his neck.

"I knew you wanted me when you saw me," she said with a smirk, pressing her body against his.

"Yes, but I want you in a different way," he said, a low growl laden in his voice as his mouth opened. Mary's breath seemed to leave her body as she felt two sharp points against her skin.

"What --?"

She didn't finish what she was going to ask. The Count had pierced her neck and tilted her head, drinking her blood as he growled softly against her skin. She didn't scream; her eyes were empty and her body became weightless as the Count continued to drink hungrily, laying the body down and licking the wound clean. He pulled back, licking the blood from his lips as he saw that the wound had already began to close and he stared at the lifeless body, a soft expression of fear the last look on her face. He adjusted himself and left the body where it was, leaving the theater, satisfied. Soon, it would be the Artiste's turn.


End file.
